Long May You Reign
by raok
Summary: Set after season 1, episode 18. Bash is trying to adjust to married life, but cannot stop worrying about Queen Mary. What happens when she seeks out his help to save her family and her country? What is he willing to risk for a woman he can no longer love? Rated M for content, language later on, and such things. Characters and original story belong to the CW and the show's creators.
1. Chapter 1

Set after S.1 Ep. 18, "No Exit". I own none of these characters. All belongs to CW and the show's creators.

Bash had felt something for Kenna in the moment they kissed, but it was not love. When his eyes shut and their lips melded, it was another girl he was imagining. And for that, he felt immense regret. While he did not love Kenna, he did value her friendship as well as her relationship to Queen Mary. He wished he could fall out of love instantly, or transfer the feelings he had towards the queen to his new bride. But it was not that easy; nevertheless he owed it to both of them to try.

He spent time with Kenna, getting to know her. Trying to understand how her mind worked, and how she needed to be cared for. As the days and weeks went on, he grew to respect her. He hadn't been sure he could because of her history with his father, King Henry, but he understood what it meant to fall in love with someone just out of reach. He tried to stay focused on his new bride, he did all he could to not let his mind wander as he went day after day not seeing Mary.

By the fourth day of not even hearing the queen's voice in the halls, he grew concerned. He could not approach Francis or Kenna about it, and dared not ask the servants; it would only create gossip. "Bash? are you even listening?" Kenna inquired as they sat across from each other dining on pheasant and local produce over dinner one evening.

He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts of when he'd last seen Mary from his mind. "I'm sorry, I must have been day dreaming. What were you saying?"

She sighed and shook her head, stabbing a carrot with her fork. "Nothing of consequence. Is everything alright?"

He nodded. "Yes, fine. Just thinking of the next move in seeking out the darkness," he lied. He felt as though he were betraying her just by thinking of the woman who once owned his whole heart. A woman who, to some extent, still did.

"I understand that this is something you have to do, seek it out, but I hope you also want to make our marriage a priority as well."

Guilt struck his chest and he nodded, reaching for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Of course. I'll do better. I just need to find and destroy this... creature. Once it's done, we will all be safe and I will dedicate myself to making our union work." He vowed to himself then and there that he would follow through on his promise.

That night, the woman that dazzled him from the moment he met her, was there with him. He knew it was a dream, if for no other reason that Mary would not approach him with the palpable need for him that she once had, or at least he thought she once had. But he allowed himself to be swept up in his subconscious that night. His mind played tricks on him, showing him a fantasy he could never have. Mary walking into his room, dressed as scantily as he had seen his own wife dress for the king. She wore a silk robe as she entered his living quarters, and dismissed the guards that walked in her shadow before she spoke to him. "You once told me that you worried that I would never care for you, love you, the way I love Francis," she began, taking slow, calculated steps towards him. He nodded, feeling the mixture of pain and elation at how she had responded the night of that conversation. "And you once told me you loved me, but not as much as him." She nodded her face falling ever so slightly, that he wondered if only he would notice the change if they had been in a room of people. "And you put your love of me above your pride and did not fight."

He sucked in a breath. This was something that had plagued him for months; that he did not fight harder for the woman he loved more than anyone he had ever cared for. "It was in part my pride that stopped me; I knew I had lost. Francis was the rightful king, and with your love he had everything." Her hand reached up and caressed his cheek. "If only you had known how difficult it was to say those things, to walk away from you." He put his hand over hers, staring into her dark brown eyes. "They needed to be said. You needed to say them; I would not have believed the words if they had been spoken by anyone else." Her eyes expressed something that he thought was sadness. "Royals, despite being the most powerful in a kingdom, as it turns out, do not always have the luxury of time. Time to decide, time to think things through, time to –"

"Be courted, as every woman, regardless of status, deserves," he murmured, watching her. She pressed her lips into a small smile and nodded. "Although you did quite well with the time we had."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said, returning the same smile. "I'm only sorry it wasn't enough."

"As am I," she confessed quietly, unable to meet his eyes as she spoke. "And now what's done is done, and nothing more can be said on the matter." To him, it sounded like she was trying to convince them both of this.

It was as if he were being stabbed in the gut. He could think of only one action that would assuage the pain. He dropped his hand from where it had been rested atop hers and pulled her flush against him, kissing her whole heartedly. He was not gentle, he didn't know how to kiss her tentatively. All of him craved her, needed her. He needed a woman with her passion, her intellect, her open-mindedness and sense of adventure. He could be gentle in how he touched her, if he were ever given the opportunity to share in that kind of physical intimacy – but his lips would never understand. She returned the kiss just as violently, crushing her lips to his. With his mind solely on his need for her, his hand brushed from the side of her waist across her stomach to the knot of her robe. It was only loosely tied and he was able to free it with one hand and little effort. He didn't look down to admire what he was sure was a perfect vision of beauty. He could not find it in himself to tear his lips from hers just yet. It was she that pressed herself against his clothed body and pulled her lips away. "Help me," she breathed into his ear.

He awoke breathless as sunrise peaked through the window. The image of Mary in a silk violet robe, her bare skin pressed against him, burned into his mind. The words she had gasped just before his eyes opened echoed through him. As he readied for the day, he convinced himself that the reason she consumed his mind to the extent she did, was simply out of concern. That was why in his dream, she had pleaded for him to save her. His subconscious thought she was in trouble. After all, since she'd arrived he hadn't gone more than a day without seeing, or at the very least, hearing her.

Once he knew she was alright it would be easier. His brain would not be split in thirds between the darkness, his new wife, and Mary Queen of Scots.


	2. Chapter 2

He spent the next few days taking hours away from the blood forest to scour the grounds for Mary. It was a futile endeavor, one that he could not admit to anyone let alone ask for assistance. It wasn't until nearly a week after he dreamt of her that he overheard a conversation between guards that gave him the clues he needed.

"I don't know what he's thinking, keeping her up there for so long. I feel bad for the poor girl, all alone."

"Hasn't he visited?"

"He has, but he's been preoccupied with her kin and sending him on his way. As I understand, she's not to be released until her half brother's departure."

Mary's half brother. Bash had seen him in court, meandering about, but he assumed that it was for Mary – evidently a poorly made judgement on his part. But up there? Up where? Her room was on a higher level, but it sounded more menacing than that. Francis surely wouldn't keep her under lock and key, would he? He had once felt like he new his brother so well, but now... now he wasn't sure what Francis was capable of.

He made his way quickly to Mary's quarters, noticing two guards standing in front of her room's doors. "Is the Queen in?" He asked one of the gentlemen with a graying beard. "My wife hasn't seen her and asked me to look in on her."

The guard, amiable enough but far from friendly looked at him stoically. "The Queen cannot be disturbed at this time."

"I understand," he nodded. "When might she be available? My wife dearly misses her company."

"Your wife," he said a bit more harshly, "should know her place and understand that the Queen of her country and ours has duties that fill her days. She does not have the luxury of leisure at this time."

"I see. Well please tell her that Lady Kenna wishes her well." This would be hopeless, he thought as Mary's words resounded against his ear once more. "Save me..."

The guard nodded and returned to staring straight ahead, effectively dismissing Bash.

Bash left the hall, no less determined to see her, but wondering if he shouldn't enlist the help of his wife. They were close after all.

As he walked across the expansive grounds towards the stables he glanced up towards the tower. The guards had mentioned that she was being kept "up" somewhere. But no, Francis wouldn't... And then Bash started to think more of it. If Mary really was in danger, where would be the last place people would search for her? What would be the most isolating place to keep a queen that was still in good favor with her king? He tried not to get excited and break into a run, but it took willpower to not sprint across the yard towards the looming stone tower.

He was nearly breathless when he reached the top steps. He could hear her talking through the wooden door, pleading for information on her release. "Where is Francis? Why he come in two days? What has happened to my brother?" She asked him in quick succession. The guard remained neutral and shook his head. "I'm under orders to only protect you your majesty. I have no news beyond that."

She sighed so loudly Bash could hear it as he approached. The guard stood taller as he noticed Bash approaching. "Sir?" He asked, quizzically.

"I've been summoned by the Dauphin to inquire about the queen's status and see if she needs anything." The guard gave him the twice over before giving a curt nod and creaking open the door.

At seeing Mary a heavy weight lifted from his chest and Bash entered the small cell reaching for her. Mary, for all her strength, returned the hug. "Bash," she said as the door slammed shut behind them. She pulled back to look at him, though he felt the loss of her warmth immediately. "It's so good to see you. Has Francis given you a message to relay?"

He glanced at the door before stepping closer to the window, on the opposite wall. Mary followed, her brows knitting together. He spoke softly, inches from her. "Not exactly. I hadn't seen you in... quite a while. I was worried that people at court would begin to take notice as well."

"So you don't know if my brother has left?"

He shook his head. "I saw him not long ago, maybe a day or so. What is going on Mary. How much danger are you in?"

She crossed her arms and began pacing. "I'm not," she spat, still in hushed tones. "Francis is making all of this a bigger deal than it is. I need to go to Scotland. I need to ensure my mother's safety, but Francis is convinced that my half brother is trying to kill me before I arrive so that he can take the crown for himself."

"Well, is he?" Bash asked bluntly. "Francis isn't know to wildly speculate. For all of his overprotection, he usually has just cause."

"Just cause?! She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Bash can you even comprehend what it is like to spent all of your life away from your home, only to be sequester in a cold environment away from your loved ones and your country? My people need me, and I need them to know that they have a queen that will protect them and their interests!" Her cheeks were pink with fury and he could do nothing but admire her for it.

"I cannot say that I have that experience, no. But I understand what it is to feel the need to prove yourself. To protect those you love, especially a mother."

She inhaled sharply and moved towards him. "Then help me. Help me get out of here and get to Scotland. I need to do this, with or without Francis."

He looked at her, unsure what to do. He had much to focus on here, being a newlywed, fighting and destroying the darkness... beginning anew. "Are you sure Mary? People may talk, you may wind up losing more than you gain."

"Please," she pleaded, taking his hands in hers and meeting his gaze. "I wouldn't ask this of you if I thought I could do this alone. Bash, you are the only person I can trust at the moment to help save me, my family, and my country."

He took a breath and nodded slowly. "I will help you Mary, Queen of Scots."


	3. Chapter 3

It was Nostradamus that approached Bash the morning after Mary and he had agreed to go to Scotland. "You need to go with her," he said cryptically as he stopped him at the stables. Bash, confused at first turned to him. "Excuse me?"

"You will save her and her country," he elaborated. "Last night I had a vision of Queen Mary's departure. You must go with her, without you she will die." He paused as if debating whether to continue. "You will save her more than once." He then motioned to an inner corner, far from overreaching ears of stable boys.

Bash was perplexed. Why would Mary speak of this to anyone? It was a big enough risk as is. "Did she tell you of the plan?" Nostradamus shook his head. "I only know what I saw last night. Though I will help you to free her. You will need more than your strength to disarm the guard watching her." Bash had struggled with that initial point – of how to actually get her out of the tower, and was struggling more so now with his general skepticism of the man's visions. However, the tower was too high to repel, too dangerous, even if they were able to find a way for her to scale down it. "How's that then?" He pressed.

Nostradamus shook his head. "It's better for all of us, if neither of you know. Just be prepared to go to her at ten o'clock."

Bash rationalized not telling Kenna about his plan by telling himself that the fewer people that knew, the better. He also knew Kenna would want to come, and it would be difficult enough protecting Mary on his own, let alone two ladies. He felt torn apart by the two women as it stood, and the idea of running into a situation where he could only save one of them was unfathomable and no a position he wanted to be in.

He wasn't sure Kenna would forgive him for the lie he told her the night after he spoke with Mary. He explained that he would be going deep into the blood forest, and that he would likely be gone a few days. Kenna initially put up a fight, pointing out the dangers of going alone, but after arguing back and forth for hours, eventually his arguments won out and she acquiesced.

She fell asleep in his arms that night, and he prayed he would have the strength to serve his purpose and that God would be kind to him upon his return. Although part of him knew that defying the crown and aiding Mary with returning to Scotland would likely mark him as a traitor at the very least, if not worse. But he could not think of himself; he could not even think of his new bride and the promise he made to always defend her, or his unfinished business with the darkness. All he could think of was his promise to Mary, that he would always protect her. That she would be his family if they married. And although that did not come to fruition it was a hard sentiment to relinquish.

The following morning he rose early. He went into town and inquired about boats to Leith, the closest port to the Scottish capital, Edinburgh. There was space on a vessel leaving the following morning at dawn, but nothing in the timeframe he had hoped. He made arrangements, adding false names to the ledger and returned to the castle. He prepared as best he could, gathering all the food he felt comfortable taking, and sharpening the sword and dagger he planned to bring with him.

Promptly at 10 o'clock he ascended the tower steps and found an unconscious guard slumped beside the door, a spilled plate of food beside him.

"Mary?" Bash whispered against the door.

"Bash!" She said excited but at a muted volume.

"Hold on, I'll get you out in a moment, I just have to find the key." He looked around him to see if the key had been flung in the guard's fall. Unfortunately it had not and was latched through his belt loop. Bash held in a breath and prayed that Nostradamus' concoction was potent enough to keep the guard unaware of his surroundings, even when he was having someone poke and prod him. He crouched down, delicately undoing the key ring clasp and not releasing his breath until he had gotten the key off the hook and had unlocked the heavy wood door.

"Come on, I'm not sure how much time we have before he comes to," Bash said as Mary scurried out the small room. "I have a couple horses just outside."

Mary dashed down the stairs and Bash followed close behind. Once they'd made it outside he tugged on her elbow, guiding them in the direction of the horses. He used his hands as a step stool to help her onto the horse, but neither of them spoke until they had made it safely off the grounds undetected. Having put some space between them and the court, Mary let out a breath as their pace slowed. "Thank you," she said as she directed her horse closer to his. He offered up a smile. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to make it onto a boat tomorrow morning. I couldn't find anything sooner than that."

It took them over an hour to reach the port town. Mary was visibly tired, but she did not complain. She could never express enough gratitude to Bash. She had more than once berated herself for involving him in this situation. She knew the risk he was taking and she considered calling it off, but she didn't know how to alert him to it before the plan went into motion. She was scared; for him, for her, what would become of her people and her country. In all the hours of her contemplation over the last 24 hours, she not once thought of what this would do to Francis beyond what he would do to Bash if he found him. Francis had betrayed her and her country, which she viewed as one in the same.

Just before reaching the inn that Bash had spotted on his way out of town earlier that day, he led Mary just off the main road. "Your Grace," he said stilling his stag and jumping off with a rucksack in his hands. "I acquired some, less regal clothing in the hopes that the people we encounter view you more as someone that resembles the Queen of France and Scotland, and less of being the actual woman."

Mary smiled thankfully and dismounted from her horse, taking the bag in her hand and moving behind a tree to change. In the dim moonlight, and despite his status as a married man, Bash couldn't help but sneak a glance at the queen. The same light cream skin of her neck and shoulder he had once seen exposed came into view, and just a blurry image of the soft curve of her right side, still hidden by her corset and underthings. She peeked over her shoulder and their eyes met briefly. Their expressions unchanged, the air pulsing. Mary's heart rate rose at the way Bash looked at her. He looked almost transfixed. Her mind recalled the day they almost eloped with perfect clarity, _"Don't plan on sleeping this night, wife..."_ His words had excited her and awoke something in her. She felt her cheeks flush and turned away, focusing on straightening out her plain cotton dress. "This dress," she started, trying to diffuse the emotions stirring within her. "It fits nicely."

"I'm glad," he said. "I reached for what I thought was a proper dress, but," I don't know every inch of your curves, he thought to himself. "But I wasn't sure," he finished instead.

She smoothed out the creases of her dress and bundled up the clothes she had been wearing to put back in the canvas bag. She appeared from behind the tree, and returned the bag to him. "Luck then," she suggested with a smile.

He took the bag and nodded. "Indeed." They both returned to their horses, him helping her once more onto the stallion. "The inn I've located is not far. I've put a name down, not our own of course. But something just so that we would not be stranded if nothing else was available."

She did not reply beyond a silent glance of appreciation and they headed for their destination for the evening.

They found themselves lucky again, when no questions were asked of them and the innkeeper seemed genuinely unfamiliar with Mary's appearance. He collected their payment and led them to a quiet room, similar to the one that they had stayed in briefly what felt like a lifetime ago, before their weddings, before their brief time together.

"I dare say I may sleep better in this than I would have in the clothes I usually wear," Mary joked as Bash poked at the fire that had been started before their arrival. Bash turned to look at her and smiled. "Good, I can't imagine you slept well in the tower." Likely because your husband was not by your side, his inner monologue added.

"It was not the most comfortable, but at least there was a bed."

He nodded, reaching for one of the two pillows on the bed and reclined in the chair in front of the fire. "Hopefully you can get some rest tonight your Grace. We have an early departure tomorrow."

Mary noticed that Bash had stopped looking at her and she crawled under the covers, staring at his profile in the glow of the fire. "I hope you're able to get good rest tonight as well."

She longed for the days they had been closer, before the crown and her duties had intervened and the complexities of life had been grown ten-fold. She was exhausted and weary laying there under the warm blanket and soothing firelight, but could not close her eyes for long. They continued to open and study Bash's outline. The way his chest moved up and down in rhythm as he slept. The sound of his light snore, indicating a deep sleep. The fire dimmed and she watched him curl inward, presumably to stay warm. She pushed herself out of bed, and took the quilt that had been acting as an additional heating source above her duvet, and made her way to him silently. She draped the patchwork blanket over him, admiring the stubble along his jaw, the softness of his nose, and just for a moment, the lines of his lips, a reminder of the certainty she had felt when they were against her own.

Before she could get too lost in nostalgia, she returned to her bed and wrapped herself in the sheets tightly. She loved her husband, despite their differences in priority at the moment. She loved him, and although she knew he would see this as an awful betrayal, she was convinced that they would find their way back to one another. Just as long as she did not add to the ways she turned her back on his trust. She rolled onto her side, facing away from Bash and forced herself to shut her eyes and concentrate on the journey to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bash woke as the sun was breaking through the darkness and turning the sky to deep blue. He immediately noticed the cover he was wrapped in and looked towards the queen, covered by her own blanket and nestled tightly in bed. He smiled at her thoughtfulness and stood, walking towards the sink to wash the sleep from his eyes. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror above the shallow bowl and ran a hand through his hair. He could not, no, would not, let whatever feelings remained for the queen, fog his judgement. He would ensure her safe passage to Scotland and determine his next course once she had taken her rightful place on the throne, far from the French court. The only thing he knew of his next step was that a life in France would not be possible after this endeavor.

He caught a glimpse of Mary's sleeping frame behind his reflection. Her lips slightly parted, her cheeks dusted pink, one arm tucked under the pillow, cradling her head. He dried his hands on a rag beside the sink and cautiously approached her. A finger lazily brushed along her hair line, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She stirred slightly, but didn't wake. With some hesitation, and apparently no regard for his wife or brother, he reached for Mary again. This time, gently tracing the outline from her temple down her cheek. Kenna was beautiful to be sure, but the woman asleep before him was ethereal. She had captivated him the moment he saw her, and the attraction only increased as he grew to know her. And yet in many ways, he felt as though she had become a stranger, like seeing an old friend after a great while. He saw the same girl, he felt the same electricity, and yet something had changed for both of them since she made the choice to marry Francis. They were more careful with their words, both more formal in conversation. He wasn't a fool, he understood that she was likely doing it to create further distance between them; and yet, all he felt and all he saw in front of him in the silence of sunrise was the woman he would move heaven, hell, and anything in-between for. And despite all of the reasons he should not love her and could not want her, none of that logic seemed to matter when he was close to her.

He started a small fire to warm the room before nudging her shoulder to wake her. "Good morning your grace," he said, continuing with the formalities. "Sorry to wake you, but we have to be on the ship soon."

Through blurry eyes, still tired from a restless night, Mary saw Bash and nodded as she sat up against the headboard and yawned before speaking."Alright, I just need a moment to collect myself."

He waited just outside of the room while she went about getting ready. Though she moved quicker than he had anticipated, they departed the inn with a narrow amount of time to reach the harbor. If they were stopped by anyone for more than a few minutes the would miss their boat, and with it their window of opportunity.

Bash was cautious, but tried to act as normal as he possibly could. Ironically what made him even more worried was the general lack of people from the castle asking questions. Surely Francis had checked on his wife over the course of the night to find she was not there? He began to wonder if they had ridden so far from the castle, that no merchant or day laborer even recognized the queen. They weren't that far from the castle, but how many of the people that they were passing spent time at court? He had recognized none, and from the perplexed look on Mary's face, she hadn't either.

The pier inspector was the closest they came to being identified. As they approached, the man wearing a smart looking coat and expensive hat, eyed them both as he glanced at their travel papers. Bash kept a hand on the hilt of his dagger as the port agent's eyes lingered on the queen. "You have a very beautiful wife," the man complimented Bash, without taking his eyes off Mary. "Yes, I'm very lucky," Bash said. It wasn't helping matters that Mary was meeting the man's gaze head on, instead of averting her eyes as most young ladies would do at such a statement.

"And I am fortunate enough to have such an appreciative husband," Mary retorted, leaning in towards Bash and looking at him fondly. Her eyes softened and her smile was one that he had not seen in months, not since they shared secrets before Francis returned. There was something about Bash that was utterly spellbinding to Mary. He was serious and yet comforting and warm; His eyes held his humor and his tongue carried his wisdom. But his lips left trails of memories that Mary could not afford to look back upon.

Bash was fighting to not allow himself to be pulled in by her gaze, especially with how she watched him with such an endearing expression. He had to remain alert and aware to keep her safe. He tore his eyes from hers to focus on the man at the podium. "I assure you everything is in order. We're moving to Scotland to be closer to my family."

The gray haired man looked up, holding the papers. "Your French is impeccable for a Scot."

Bash smiled, playing it off well. "Why thank you. I've lived here nearly all my life, but some of my siblings returned to Scotland to join the advance of the Protestant rebels." Seeing the man's expression changing in their favor, he added, "and so we're returning so that I may add my services to the effort."

The man that had been holding up their passage, handed the papers back to them. "It is turning into quite the struggle, I hear. But God will protect you and those fighting for what is right. Safe voyage, sir."

Bash nodded a thanks, and ushered Mary forward towards the ship. They moved slowly, but it was hard for Mary not to take off running. She felt as if a suit of armor had been lifted from her body and she was closer than ever to being home, to Scotland.

They made their way to their cabin in the lower level, and Mary looked at Bash skeptically as she took in the two sets of bunk beds in the small quarters. He couldn't help but chuckle at her obvious discomfort. "Don't worry your grace, when I made the preparations I made sure every ticket in this cabin was purchased. You will only have to share the room with me for the journey."

Mary put a hand on her stomach and exhaled. "That's a relief. Thank you." Bash just nodded and looked around the room. It was small to be sure, even fitting four beds in total, as well as two dressers, the room couldn't have been more than 8 feet by 8 feet. He walked through a small door and nodded in pleasant surprise. "We have a private washroom as well," he announced over his shoulder.

"Wonderful," Mary said glancing between the sets of beds. Bash turned, looking at her. "I'll take the one nearest the door, just in case."

She nodded, moving to sit on the bottom bunk of the one further away. An awkward silence fell over them, and Bash cleared his throat after a moment. "I'll leave you to settle in. I'd like to explore before we set sail."

Mary jumped up. "I'd like to join you," she said quickly. Bash shook his head, giving a tight lipped smile. "We don't know who else is aboard. I'd feel better if you stayed here until I have a chance to survey the vessel and gather more information."

Mary fought the desire to stomp her feet and argue further, but she refrained. "Alright. But promise me the moment you've confirmed that there is no one set to kidnap me, you'll point me in the direction of the deck," she smirked, teasing him a bit.

He grinned. "Better yet, I'll even escort you."

"Just try not to get into trouble before then." She joked, but the seriousness of the possibility hung in the air until Bash replied.

"I'll let you know if it happens," he chuckled, trying to continue the banter they had once been so good at.

Mary felt the weight of what might be, lift at the sound of Bash's laughter. "Carrier dove preferred. Pigeons seem like such dirty animals."

"On the open water, it's more likely to be a seagull, you're grace."

"A compromise I'll accept," she smiled, laughing under her breath.

A pregnant pause lingered between them as they grew silent, each unable to look away from the other's smile.

Bash could feel the pangs of what he once felt so strongly, tug at his chest. He coughed, hoping to release the pressure. "I'll leave you to rest," he said. His tone was gruff, although he hadn't meant it to be. He took a deep breath. "I'll return for you once the coast is clear."

Mary sat back on the bed and nodded. "I'll see you soon."

Bash gave a short bow, why he didn't know. Nerves, the usual formality expected when in the company of royalty. He opened the door slightly peering in each direction before slipping out, only to lean back against the door. He shut his eyes; he would not be bewitched by those large brown eyes, hearty laughter, and pillowy lips. He couldn't – not again.


End file.
